


I once dreamt I would drink

by margesimpson



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Human AU, M/M, secret santa gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21885031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margesimpson/pseuds/margesimpson
Summary: Zim takes Membrane to a bar. College AU
Relationships: Professor Membrane/Zim
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	I once dreamt I would drink

**Author's Note:**

> My gift for the secret Santa in the Zimbrane discord (please dm killermoth24 on Tumblr for an invite link)! It's short and simple, but I put as little heart as I have in it. I hope my freaky little friend will like it ❤️

"So… Do you need a lift?" 

Zim had offered this after watching Membrane struggle for about an hour with his bike, the wires both busted and the snow too heavy and thick for it to drive through. Zim admitted to himself he had some sick satisfaction from watching an engineer major completely fuck up his bicycle - his busted, old-ass bicycle, that is. 

The student in question whipped round, flushed and panted, staring at Zim in surprise. You'd think Zim was mugging him, or something, and Zim darted his eyes around to see if there were any witnesses - he couldn't afford another arrest. "Um," Membrane had started, eloquently, "I'd appreciate it. Yes." 

"Cool," Zim stepped back into the store, "I'll be out in a few." 

That was probably the longest, actual conversation Membrane and Zim had exchanged, he realized. Here are some things Zim knew about this Membrane: he really liked bread. Or, at least, he liked toast. Allegedly. And, allegedly, he had been working on some super-toaster, completely self-sustained, no electricity required - Zim would think he was insane if he didn't think it was brilliant. And that was saying something, considering Zim thought every smuck at Wimbledon was an idiot. Even his brother, who, yes, was Membrane's peer. That's how Zim first recognized him, he remembered; his brother enjoyed taking photos of people… When ever. Without their knowledge, most of the time. It was mostly legal, he had hoped. But, yes - he could recognize that weird hair from anywhere. 

"Skoodge, we're not carpooling today," Zim said resolutely as he put his vest away in his locker, walking past his coworker. "My names actually-" And he shuts the door in his face. It's not as if he was paying him. 

That was another thing - this Membrane kid was rich. He had to be; what was financing his big grand projects, his college fund, and his atrocious grocery shopping addiction. It definitely wasn't a job, he had been informed. Membrane spends his time shut in his room, and he wasn't particularly social enough to pick up some low-key trade around campus. 

"How does a well-off kid like you have such a jacked bicycle, anyway?" that's what Zim says to him as he emerges from the back door, gloved hands gesturing accusingly. 

"Uh," Membrane chuckled, awkwardly, "it's a long story, actually." 

"Tell me it while I'm looking for my car," Zim instructs, walking passed Membrane, "maybe it'll help me not go insane while I do so." 

"Um. Okay." 

Membrane follows Zim like a shadow. If shadows were nervous, yet eager. 

It would be insanely stupid if Zim didn't notice how he acts around him- and it's always around him. Never does he check out with a different cashier, and always does he linger to watch Zim from a distance. Zim supposed he wouldn't have noticed, really, if he hadn't been so incredibly bored at work, needing something to focus on. And, like, it wasn't as if Membrane was the least interesting person he'd come across. 

"My dad's a farmer-" 

"Wait," Zim turned, sharply, "you're not messing with me, right?" 

"Huh?" 

Zim blinked, rapidly, leaning forward. The statement has him completely dumbfounded. It's impressive, really. "You don't need to say any more," Zim shook his head, bringing his palm to his face. "It already explains so much." 

"It's not that weird, is it?" 

"Have you, like, watched a horse give birth?" Zim asks, realizing only then that he has wanted to know about horse birthing his whole life. 

Membrane laughed - an abrupt, voice-breaking laugh. "No one - no one has ever asked me that-" 

"I'd just never peg you to be a farmer boy, what with your tech-savvy and all." 

"Oh, um, thank you?" Membrane seemed like a very confused person, Zim observed. Maybe he wasn't that bright. "And yeah - that's… My dad's not completely supportive on that front-" 

"I gotcha. Loud and clear." Zim halts in front of his car. "We don't need to talk about it, if you want." 

"Thanks," Membrane said, straightening his jacket. "We could talk about the horse-birthing instead, if you want."

Zim considered this genuinely for a moment. "Eh, maybe later. I actually need a smoke - do you-?" 

"Oh, no," Membrane shook his head. "I don't smoke." 

"Oh. Should I -" 

"No, it's alright." 

Zim squinted at Membrane, suspicious, before deciding to have his damn smoke. 

"So," Zim blew a cloud of smoke, watching it evaporate, "how's first year of Wimbledon? You going to that big keg party they always do?" 

"Hm. It's been… kind of disappointing. The courses I've been taking are too rudimentary, in my opinion."

"Damn," Zim leaned against his car, "harsh, but true. You got this massive portfolio, probably, only to replicate it exactly the first year." 

"Did you go to Wimbledon?" 

"I'm only, like, a couple years older than you," Zim snided, "I dropped out, actually. They'll say I was expelled, but I don't abide by their rules." 

"What did you do?" 

"Sell exam memorandums. A, uh… Friend of mine works there. He didn't know about it, obviously. Told me I was cheating the system, but I thought the system was rigged, anyway."

Zim raised his hands in the air, putting on whatever gravitas he had adopted from his brother. "However, now I have submitted to the capitalist dream, its true. Or American. Whatever it was," he waved his hand dismissively, shrugging off his act immediately. He frowned at Membrane's furrowed look. "Why'd you say it like that?" 

"What do you mean?" Zim tilted his head. He glared at his boots, feeling the ice melting, soaking his expensive attire. Well, expensive for him, anyway. They'd have to climb into the car, eventually. 

"You're not American?" 

Ah. Zim rolled his eyes, holding himself tighter, crushing his cigarette with his wet boot. "Like you couldn't tell." 

"I- Sorry," Membrane looked sheepish, ducking his head to avoid Zim's gaze, "I don't assume things about people. Usually." 

"You should start," Zim said quickly, perked up at the statement, "you should always assume things. People can be creeps. Assuming people are creeps is what keeps us alive. It's the only way we have survived as a species." 

"Did you assume I was a creep when you met me?" Membrane asked, softened. "And I think you're changing the subject-" 

"Of course I did," Zim pulled another cigarette from his batted wallet, old and dampened over time. "The point isn't to always be right - anyway, yes, I am, in fact, Polish." Zim lights and takes his first drag in silence. "Hm? Are you gonna turn me in?" 

"No," Membrane shook his head, "I'm just wondering how you and Greg are related." 

Zim smiled at Membrane's implied rejection of his brother's stage name. Maybe the kid really wasn't stupid. "We found each other," Zim shrugged, "that's how." 

"Ah," Membrane looks as if he's smiling - Zim's not sure if he's seen him smiled before. "That's… That's nice, actually." 

"If you think it's that nice, you can have him." Membrane laughed at that, too. It was easy making this kid laugh, even if Zim didn't mean to most of the time. It was a nice feeling. 

"Now," Zim said, digging for his key in his pocket, "before I let you into my precious car, I have to at least know your first name." 

Membrane looked embarrassed, the sound of his shoes scraping against the snow filling the silence between them. Eventually, he sighs, and concedes. "My parents named me Joe-" 

"That's not so bad-" 

"Joe Kleetus." 

Zim nearly choked on his cigarette. 

"Your parents are cruel." 

Joe - well, Membrane merely nodded. "Could you, not-" 

"Of course," Zim said, "even I can be generous, in the most severe cases, like these." 

Membrane immediately buckles his seat when they've entered the car, without prompt. Zim had really shackled himself with a geek, hasn't he? 

"So… I'm assuming your dad hasn't taught you how to drive because you're carriage people." 

Membrane snorted at this. "I actually made my own car-"

"Woah." 

"-And I can't drive it since it's not legally registered as a vehicle, exactly. So, I don't drive because…" 

"Out of pure stubbornness?" 

Membrane laughs, lightly. "Yeah." 

"That's respectable." 

"Thank you." Yes, that is definitely his smile. 

Shit, Zim had thought. Membrane sounds like, an actual genius. Like, this kid could actually go places someday. And he's doting on Zim, who's stuck working as some corporate drone. It's an intense realization that's got Zim's face flushed as the drove on in a comfortable silence. It wasn't as if Zim could blame Membrane for being some what infatuated with him - it is Zim, after all, but at the same time - - is this the best use of his time? Zim felt like, as he turned to look at Membrane- but then - - 

"Oh shit," Zim said, his eyes bugging at the radio. "Is it really that late?" 

"Yeah. Why?" 

Zim groaned. "I'm sorry, Membrane- it's just that I'm late for my shift at this place and-" 

"I don't mind." Membrane quickly assured. “I don’t need to be at my dorm room tonight.”

“Ah, well, you see, “Zim sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. “Have you ever been to a club?”

Membrane seemed embarrassed as he answered “no.”

"So, I'm assuming you've never been to a gay bar, then," Zim said lightly, but his smile dropped when he turned to look at Membrane. 

Membrane looked the other way as he whispered "No, I haven't." Zim felt his stomach twist at Membrane's mortified face. He felt stupid, for the most part - this was a farmer boy, he had to remind himself. There might have been a slight possibility that Zim read the kid completely wrong, right? Maybe his behavior was more platonic than Zim had measured. Oh, God, he's just staring at him. 

"Sorry, I just assumed--" Zim winced, "I'll just drop you off-" 

"No," Membrane shook his head, and Zim watched him, curious, as he fumbled over his words. "I-I don't… I haven't really thought about

...what I am. So I don't think you're wrong? But I don't know exactly…" 

Ah. Okay. 

"Do you want to find out?" 

Zim could laugh at the way the kid bugged his eyes at that statement. 

"By going to the club, I mean." 

"Oh." Membrane thinks for a moment, brow furrowed. "How would that help, exactly…?" 

"Well," Zim took a turn, already in its direction, "you'll usually find out who you are when you're surrounded by the right people - makes you feel like you're at home."

Membrane made a sound of acknowledgement, looking off somewhere in the distance. "That's a plausible hypothesis, I suppose." 

Membrane definitely acted like he hadn't been around this part of town before. He was unclear if they were facing the front or back of the bar, which Zim only answered with fits of laughter. Zim guided him inside, and, luckily, it seemed to be a quiet night. Only a few familiar patrons, and, (perhaps not that?) surprisingly, his brother, perched happily on a seat next to the bar. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Zim grabbed a rug from the counter and smacked his brother lightly on the shoulder with it. He mocked-winced and flailed his hands weakly. "I'm being attacked! Oh no!" 

"You should be taking your make-up exam, dimwit-" 

"Hey! It's mailman!"

Gir turned to Membrane with an over-enthusiastic smile. Zim had no clue how he got that nickname. Knowing Gir, there was probably no real origin story. Membrane seemed to have registered that Gir was referring to him, however, and waved awkwardly. "Hey, Greg." He frowned at this. 

"Are you here for the free dip?" Gir lifted his head, glaring at Membrane. "Because that's all mine." 

"I'm good, thanks," Membrane said, his hands in his pockets. He stood there, completely dumbstruck, Zim could tell. He nudged Membrane's shoulder, gesturing to a seat by the bar. "Oh!" He then promptly sat himself, which made Zim snort. He took directions, at least. 

Before Zim could properly set himself up behind the bar, he heard a familiar pair of heels clicking against the floor. Of course, it was Tak, who was pissed. When was she never pissed, though? He'd always be paying for having her involved in his scheme in college, he supposed. 

"Where the hell have you been?" she hissed, crossing her arms across her chest. Zim just rolled his eyes and shrugged. There was no use answering her, she'd be angry regardless. Zim could have been rescuing puppies from a fire and she'd tell him it was on her dime. She glanced at Gir, and raised her brows at Membrane. She snapped at Zim. 

"You can't keep bringing kids into the bar-" 

"Why do people keep calling me a kid?" Membrane piped up. "I'm twenty-" 

"Exactly. People who can't give me money for liquor are kids." Tak snapped back, looking over Membrane with a stink eye. "Of course you're into mullets," she muttered under her breath, before turning back to Zim one last time. "Anyway, people seem to be genuinely cheerful this holiday, which is shit business for us. So, no performances today, okay? Okay." 

Tak then promptly left, Zim glaring at her back as she left. He sighed, then turned back to the bar. "Speaking of Christmas," Gir chimed in, "what are you getting me?" 

"What's the point if you know what it is?" 

"I'll stop bugging you about it." 

"Hmm," Zim pondered this as he filled a glass with water, "that's certainly tempting. But, no." 

Gir groaned before gleefully taking the glass. Zim turned to check on Membrane, who seemed to be absolutely fascinated by the gaudy decoration. "What are you doing for the holidays?" Zim found himself asking, which made Membrane jump. 

"I don't -" Membrane tapped his fingers on the counter, "I don't celebrate Christmas, really."

"Hanukkah?"

Membrane shook his head. He glanced at Gir, who leaned uncomfortably close. "What is it?" 

"You thirsty?" 

"Um. I could have something to drink." 

Gir slammed his fist on the bar. "Enough with the questions! Brother, get this man a drink! It's on me." He smiled smugly. 

"Which means it's on me," Zim said, pouring a glass for Membrane and handing it to him. "Freeloader." 

"Why do you like this man, mailman?" Gir said, a hand gripping his own shirt in mock-agony. "He wounds me so." 

"I thought we were done with questions," Membrane said, taking a sip of his water. He laughed as Gir flailed his arms, acting as if he had been shot. It's a better reaction than most have had, Zim thought. 

As the night rolled on, a few familiar faces came and went; some introducing themselves and welcoming Membrane, others ignoring him. Membrane himself seemed to have loosened up somewhat, being more talkative and humoring Gir. Zim pondered that Membrane would benefit from being more social, considering his whole talk about going into the humanitarian side of sciences. 

Membrane's slurred speech seemed suspicious, however, and Zim pulled Gir aside to question him. To Zim's shock, he had learned that Gir had been spiking Membrane's water. 

"Why would you do that?" 

"For his confidence! It's working, isn't it?" 

"You-" Zim shake his fists in the air, resisting the urge to strangle Gir right then and there. He was so close to punching him, if he hadn't noticed Membrane making a run for the back door. 

Thankfully, he hadn't vomited, Zim noted as he followed him. He watched, concerned, as Membrane groaned and kicked the snow. Their gazes finally met, and Membrane looked crushed in embarrassment. 

"I'm sorry, I just needed a second-" 

"It's completely fine." 

"-I've just been thinking a lot, y'know? About," Membrane panted, sighed and wrung his hands together, walking in circles in the snow. "I didn't think this would happen today. Or, like, ever. Ever since I've met you, I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

Zim was quiet, watching Membrane pace. 

"I-I don't know. It's like- like I had a sense…

A p-plan of where I was g-going, b-but.. 

But then I saw you and it's like. You're all I can think about. Everyday, I want to see you." Membrane sighed, and stopped, turning to look at Zim, looking defeated. "I'm sorry. I know you - you have your life figured out, I think. I don't know. I thought that I did, I thought I knew everything, but I… I don't know."

Membrane laughed, weakly, dragging his palm down his face. "I'm so...geeky, I know. I'm always, like, hanging around you - but… I want to. I'm sorry. Fuck." 

Zim said nothing. He walked toward Membrane, angry at himself for not stealing Gir's scarf when given the chance. He pulls Membrane in a hug for warmth, and Membrane doesn't protest. After a moment, they began to sway, hearing Kate Bush play faintly from inside the bar. That was probably Gir's choice. Zim rubbed Membrane's back, trying to think of what to say. 

"I think about you a lot, too," Zim said eventually, "I've been keeping a mental list of all the things I know about you." 

"I hope they're all good things," Membrane said quietly with a small chuckle. Zim combed his hair before pulling back to look him in the eye. "I'd like to know a lot more." 

And another thing Zim knew about Membrane: that would be his first kiss. 

  
  



End file.
